


A Three Phase Problem

by the_noble_bachelorette84



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Face-Sitting, Sherlolly - Freeform, Smut, Voice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-06 03:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1842571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_noble_bachelorette84/pseuds/the_noble_bachelorette84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and Molly embark on a Three Phase experiment. Or it was supposed to be three. As it turns out, the problem with those three phases is that it isn't enough!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As he stood there, peering into the microscope, it was all she could do not to turn him where he sat and bury her face in his long, lean neck. She wanted to lick at the skin covering the tendons; feel the vibrations of his vocal cords on her lips and tongue as he moaned her name. She wanted to sit on his neck while he talked a blue streak about one case or another and gave deductions in his dark baritone. She was convinced that this sensation would get her off in no time at all, and wanted to find out if she was right.  
“Sherlock?”  
“Mmm?”  
“I was wondering, would you help me with an experiment?”  
“What sort of experiment?” He didn’t look at her, but he did lose focus on the eyepiece of the microscope.  
“A sensory experiment. Textures, sounds, tastes, and so on.” He hesitated. “Indulge me? As I so often indulge your insane behavior?”  
“I am sane, I’ll have you know! My parents had top professionals examine me when I was just a child! Mycroft, as well!”  
“I didn’t say you WERE insane, I said that your BEHAVIOR was insane on occasion. Please?”  
He leaned away from his project and folded his arms over his broad chest. “Very well, what is the experiment?”  
“Come here!” She grabbed him by an arm and pulled him off the stool. He followed along more willingly than she had expected, his curiosity perhaps overcoming his sense. She pulled him into the small lounge off the lab where she knew a large, not overly comfortable sofa sat. It was meant for quick breaks, not long-term sitting, but it would do in a pinch, and would serve Molly’s purpose.  
“Have a seat here.” She indicated the sofa. Her words were not a request. He sat.  
She removed her lab coat and cardigan, revealing a sleeveless blue top over fitted black slacks.  
“This shouldn’t take long. Just oblige me for a moment. Won’t you?” Her soft, pleading gaze was not something Sherlock Holmes was prepared to resist. He nodded.  
She began by simply inhaling his scent, her nose hovering just above the skin of his neck. He smelled like lavender, brandy, tobacco, and something else that was just Sherlock. She made sure to hover over as much of his neck as possible, not wanting to miss anything. She felt him stiffen a bit as she went on. He was after-all, undoubtedly confused as to why the pathologist was just…smelling him. He was, no doubt, waiting on an explanation, which was unlikely to come until she had gathered all the data she could.  
“Phase one of the experiment is a success. Permission to proceed to phase two?”  
“I’m intrigued; please continue!” He really seemed curious. He jumped a bit as she licked the notch at the base of his neck. She sucked and nipped at his exposed flesh, delighting in his savory flavor. He wasn’t pushing her away, as she had anticipated he would do, but rather, he caressed and squeezed at her arms and torso, running one hand up her spine and into her long, mouse-brown hair. She sighed against his skin, causing a pleasant chill to run through him. He gave in to the thrill of the contact and pulled her face up and away from his neck toward his own face.  
“Permission to experiment within the experiment?” He asked, gently holding her jaw and less gently staring into her eyes, no, her very soul in that way he had that always made her legs weak and her words unintelligible. The intensity of his gaze was palpable. It was an energy. A force of nature. Normally, the facial expressions of others make one feel certain emotions, like amusement, sadness, apprehension, nervousness, happiness, and the like. But this expression did so much more than fill her with any emotion, in particular. It gave her a desire. A desire to give in to every request of the man behind it. It pierced her heart as if it were a blade, and like a physical blade, she knew she would never be quite the same after this moment. She would never recover from this. The only response she could fabricate was a ‘yes’ so breathy that the consonants were barely audible.  
He pressed his supple, cupid’s bow against her soft, slender lips, holding her close with a hand at the base of her skull. He was content to just kiss her like this, sweetly, and almost chastely, letting her set the pace and tone. But she wanted more. She opened her mouth a bit, the action mirrored by his lips, which parted just slightly, and non-invasively. Molly took the next step, working her lithe tongue into his warm mouth, each of them salivating for the other. As the kiss deepened, he held her tighter and she adjusted her body so that she was now sitting on his lap. She felt his arousal straining the fabric of his slacks and used it to her advantage, pressing her heat against it as she ran her own fingers through his thick, chocolate hair. He twisted beneath her, his hips bucking almost involuntarily, lifting Molly up with the movement. She pulled away, breathlessly.  
“Permission to move to phase three?” she almost whispered.  
“Oh, I don’t know, I’m quite liking the second half of phase two!” he said, cheekily.  
“This phase is mostly for me, but we can make phase four all about you!”  
“You have a deal, Miss Hooper! What do you require of me?”  
“Lay down and open your shirt a bit.” Molly directed.  
She stood up, allowing him to execute her orders. He looked at her again, in that way he had, as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. She felt fever creep up her spine. He reclined on the couch, as she asked and spread his arms questioningly.  
“Well, what shall I do now?”  
She jumped onto the couch, hovering her hips over his neck and chest.  
“Just…talk. I know you can do that!” She smirked.  
“Well, normally yes, but…”  
“Sherlock Holmes, speechless! This is new! I quite like it! How about you just say whatever comes to mind. It doesn’t really matter.” She could have held the phone book up in front of him as he read the names from it. She just wanted to hear his voice and feel its vibrations between her legs. He began to recite a verse of poetry, she had never heard it before.  
“Hither, hither, love  
“’Tis a shady mead  
“Hither, hither love,  
“Hither, hither, sweet!  
She had been wrong earlier. This was so much better than the phone book. She hoped it was a lengthy poem, even though he was taking his time. And without even being asked to do so! He just knew the speed at which he should speak. As she looked down at him, she thought of nothing but the sensation, and how beautiful his lips and jaw looked while he spoke. His mouth formed syllables so eloquently and his jaw moved so gracefully. She was baffled as to how what was more or less a hinge joint could create movement that could be considered graceful, but this one did. He continued, she closed her eyes, and remained utterly still, and let the words work through the layers of fabric covering her ever-moistening flesh. Maybe it wasn’t as effective as his tongue or fingers would prove to be, but it was definitely making her ready for the phases to come. She let out a content, but aroused sigh, as he spoke the last few lines.  
“Hither, hither, hither  
“Love this boon hath sent  
“If I die and wither,  
“I shall die content.”  
She grinned down at him. “I was not intending to make this a phase of two parts, but I’m now thinking it will be necessary. A moment?”  
“And of what will part two consist?” He raised an eyebrow and propped himself up on his elbows as she dismounted him.  
“Three guesses.” She said as she unbuttoned her slacks and shot him the most seductive glance of which she was capable.  
“I take it my mouth is going to come into play, but your trousers and knickers are not?”  
“If you’re up for it! It’s all for science, Mr. Holmes!” She winked as she stepped out of her undergarment.  
“Well, you know, I’m happy to make some sacrifices in the name of scientific advancement, Miss Hooper!”  
“I’m counting on it.” She said, kneeling one leg on the sofa and swinging the other over his shoulders. She positioned herself just over his chin. “How’s this?”  
He wiggled down just a bit so she was directly over his mouth. “Perfect.” He uttered slowly, almost moaning with delight. And he began kissing her folds, teasing her for only a short time before locking his mouth to her center. She let out a tiny gasp when he first flicked his tongue against her, and a few more at every new sensation he made her feel with the pliant and graceful muscle.  
He ran his large, slender, soft hands up over her hips, his long arms extending them under her blouse to her breasts, unimpeded by her absent bra. He kneaded them, pinching and rolling her stiff nipples between finger and thumb, still not relenting with his mouth. She covered his hands with her own over the fabric of her top, and ran them down the length of his arms made of slender muscle covered in soft, fair skin. She stopped at the crook of his elbow, lost in the sensations emanating from the bundle of nerves at her core. She felt him breach her body a few times when she was getting too close, and tease her walls with a different moist heat, only to retreat back to his original post. The variation was frustrating, but in the very best of ways.  
Her breathing began to quicken again, and she hoped so fervently that he would let her come. It felt like she would get her wish! She felt a slight pull at her center, and another a bit harder, and again a few more times, each increasing in intensity until eventually he didn’t let up and he kept her pulled into his mouth as far as he could, fluttering his tongue over her just as quickly as she needed. She had uttered his name with volume seeming to match the force of his suction, first quiet with the gentleness, then loud at her pinnacle.  
“Sherlock!” She shouted, falling forward and catching herself on the arm of the sofa. Her pulse was so rapid. He’d driven her breath out with deadly force.  
She heard a mumble from between her legs and scooted down to free up that pleasure-giving mouth. “Sorry?”  
“I said, so, how do you feel about part two of phase three?”  
“Good! Very good! Excellent! Is there a word that surpasses ‘excellent?’ I had NO idea you'd be THAT good at that!”  
“Well, Molly, you remember that time when you didn’t know whether or not I was good at something and I wasn’t?”  
“No…”  
“Nor do I! Because it never happened! I’d definitely remember that!”  
“Wait,” she said, finger held up. “What about any other time you’ve ever interacted with anyone? Ever?” She raised a sarcastic eyebrow.  
“Molly! Now you’ve, what do they say, killed the mood? How am I supposed to enjoy phase four after that cutting remark?”  
“Oh, I think you’ll forgive me in short order.” She smirked at him impishly as she scooted down on the sofa to kiss him from his mouth down his abdomen. He’d already forgotten that he was supposed to be cross.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phases Four and Five seem to blur together as the experiment reaches critical mass and Sherlock finds himself doing something he's never done in his life...three times!

She was eager to commence the next phase of the experiment. She had been curious about a particular section of Sherlock’s anatomy for a long time. She could remember the day. It wasn’t long after they’d met. She’d found him very attractive since she had first laid eyes on him, but she hadn’t thought of him in a sexual way until a few days later. He had been called in to look at a corpse that was pulled from the river. Female, early twenties, curvy, but fit. He had donned gloves and was examining the dead woman, touching and prodding, smoothing his hands along her mottled skin. Did he have to do that? Did he have to touch her? Especially there? Did he have to run his hands along her flesh like that? She was the luckiest woman in the room, despite the fact that she had no pulse. ‘Why can’t Sherlock touch ME like that? I’d return the favor! I’d make him feel like he’s never felt before! I wonder…” and she’d let herself drift off into a fantasy of his size, appearance, and flavor.  


She didn’t have to imagine it now! She was getting ready to live it! She ended her trail of wet lingering kisses at the waistband of his trousers. She felt his arousal, hard as steel beneath her touch. She traced the outline of his manhood with a frustrating pressure. He needed more. And less. More pressure. Less fabric. But on, she went. Infuriating him with every stroke. Teasing him. He whimpered. She grinned, pleased at her skill. She thought she would be a little rusty. It had been a long time since she’d been like this with anyone. It emboldened her to know that she hadn’t lost her touch, so she pressed him further into madness. She began leaving warm kisses over him, the fabric holding their heat close to his tender skin. His next cry was even more piteous. He grabbed her hair, causing her eyes to dart up to his.  


The most vulnerable, pleading look graced his face as he uttered, “Please!” He was begging her to have mercy upon him. ‘In due time!’ she thought. All in good time. But still, she continued to the next step of her task, which included freeing him from his Westwood shackles. She felt relief surge through him as she undid the fastenings. Boxers, he wore beneath. A bit of a surprise, she thought, but not unwelcome. This particular pair were simple, white and blue striped, and the fly was peeking open, revealing a bit of his engorged appendage. She maneuvered it though the opening and began her work. She licked, flicked, swirled, and sucked him with a precision he couldn’t have expected. She knew exactly how to make him come, which was worrisome for two reasons. Firstly, how could she know his body so well? Was he being covertly surveyed during those infrequent moments when self-release was necessary? Secondly, he was desperate for her to climax again, actually seeing her face this time, and he would prefer that she did so while he was inside her. But he was convinced that if, or rather when, he came right now under her ministrations, he would not have enough time to recover in order to do that.  


He needn’t have worried, though. Molly also knew how to keep him from succumbing to his pleasure. She held him just right to keep him on edge. She began anew the torture. She held him balanced on the blade of a knife, on the head of a pin. The metaphorical penny hung in the air as if on a line. Would it never drop? He clutched the bed sheets in his fists. He had never needed anything more than he needed a release right now. He begged yet again, “Molly, oh god, please! Please! Molly, I-‘’  


And she removed herself from him suddenly, and with a wet ‘pop.’ She repositioned herself over him and guided him into her slowly. Oh, how deliciously slowly. She wanted to feel every moment, every inch. She’d barely begun when she withdrew a bit. And then took him a little further, and out again. She repeated the mind-shattering action until she had taken him in to his hilt. She nestled her body snugly against his, learning the best angles for them to work with together.  


It took surprisingly little time. It was a bit like finding that piece of the puzzle you’ve been searching for. The one that aligns perfectly and causes the muddled picture to finally make a bit of sense. Sherlock felt it immediately. She was his missing piece. She brought a clarity unlike any he’d experienced since he’d met his best friend. He still wasn’t sure what the image he was assembling was, but he knew it wouldn’t be complete without her.  


Molly began to move. Her hips swiveled on him, and around him, and the combined sensations of the feel, sight, smell, and sound of her was more than he could take. He thought he would come, but he didn’t. She changed something. Something miniscule and imperceptible, but enough to slow his process. She built him up again, almost to completion, but then held him off. She did this a third time, but when she began the fourth he implored her, “Please, Molly, I’m begging here! Please!” He needed this. He needed to pour his lust into her warm, succulent body.  


She obliged, mercifully, leaning forward just enough to get better friction against her body, inside and out, and continued to ride him, speeding up as they both neared their pinnacle. Sherlock grabbed Molly by the waist, his firm caress at the sensitive skin there sending her tumbling into her bliss. He joined her nearly immediately, thrusting up into her, shouting her name. She felt his warmth fill her, her inner muscle contracting to coax more from him.  


“Mmm, Sherlock!” She moaned.  


“Molly.” He whispered, almost into her mouth as he sat up and pulled her into a deep kiss. He held her to him by the nape of her neck, devouring her with his mouth, and still out of breath from their physical activity. Molly threaded her fingers into his thick, soft, dark hair, moaning at the pleasing texture. It was every bit as perfect as she had always imagined it to be! He moaned in response.  


“Molly Hooper, you’re the only person who has ever made me beg for mercy.”  


Molly chuckled proudly. “Three times, if you’re counting. You begged me three times there. I thought I could have coaxed a fourth one out, but I didn’t want to hurt you! Poor lamb!”  


“You should have chosen a more hearty subject to experiment with, Dr. Hooper. I am weak and powerless under your science.”  


“Oh, but you see, Mr. Holmes, that would be like trying to study the moon during the heat of the day. Sure, you may have more light, and better conditions, but it’s frankly irrelevant to the research.”  


“What are you implying?” He asked, brow furrowing in that adorable way. His confusion was the most adorable thing.  


“You’re the moon. If I wanted perfect conditions, I’d have gone home with that footballer who chatted me up in the pub last weekend. Daylight is boring.”  


“You mean, your research was on me?”  


“Obviously.” She teased, “That and my reaction to you. We have our fantasies, you know. Sometimes they overwhelm us, and we have to explore them. Some people draw, some write, I just went to the source. I wasn’t disappointed!” She winked at him, and he grinned back.  


“Well, then, allow me to volunteer in advance for any further experimentation in this series.”  


“Fantastic! How would you feel about a little sexy cosplay? I was thinking either Harry Potter or Star Trek!”  


“Star Trek!? You want to see me in a Starfleet uniform? Or worse! Some sort of ridiculous, pec-baring tribal get-up with a monstrosity of a silver wig!?”  


“I’m actually quite interested in any of that!”  


“Well then…when shall we begin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the second chapter! It was really trying to get through in some parts! I hope it reads more fluidly than it wrote!  
> I wanted a little nod to the Woman in there, so I hope you all caught that, as well as my less than subtle reference to Khan Noonien Singh (Montalban version!)

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by a gifset I saw featuring the magic of the Cumberneck, and I just felt this needed to be done! 
> 
> The poetry excerpts are the first and last stanzas of "Hither, hither, love" By John Keats. It is a beautiful poem, and I highly recommend that you all download a collection of Keats' work from iBooks or the like. (There are some that are free of charge! BONUS!!!)
> 
> Will begin work on the second chapter as soon as possible! Hope this tides you all over for now! I love you all for reading, commenting, bookmarking, subscribing, and leaving kudos! You're all, every one of you, beautiful people!


End file.
